


Akkorka

by happygolovely



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Borrowers Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Cobblepot Centric, Developing Friendships, Domestic Life at Grundy 805, F/M, Fairy Tale Elements, Family Dynamics, Found Family, Gen, Height Differences, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, In Which The Riddler Is Henpecked By The Penguin, M/M, Magic and Science, Pocket! Penguin, Protective Parents, Science Experiments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-04 21:05:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15849348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happygolovely/pseuds/happygolovely
Summary: He couldn’t have been bigger than Ed’s hand and yet he carried himself with a presence that belied his stature. Dressed all in patchwork and scraps, this was someone used to fighting their way through at any price. Nothing in Ed’s life had ever prepared him for such a creature.Oswald raised the needle high right between Ed’s eyes and smiled“If you move one-inch closer, I will flay you from top to toenail. Clear?”Ed gulped. “Crystalline.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cobblepologist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobblepologist/gifts).



Little by little it started. Ed began to misplace things. Small trifles, nothing much and nothing of any great value. Buttons and knobs, watches and fobs. It wouldn’t have bothered him overmuch if it weren’t for the feeling that something was out of place. Someone had been moving his things. To what end, he couldn’t guess but it irked him all the same.

 

Then there was the scratching. The incessant scratching under his floorboards that kept him up all hours of the night. There was no other explanation for it - he had an infestation on his hands. Now being that he lived in Gotham, that could mean any number of things and being a very clever man he knew exactly what to do - he laid a trap and hoped that whatever came out wasn’t terribly radioactive or unpleasant.

 

On the desk by the window he left a treat tied to string tied to an electrical device. If his prey was ensnared they’d get a nasty little shock and he’d get a new creature to experiment on. Lose-win.

 

All night he waited and he waited for the smell of singeing flesh or an anguished animal cry and when morning arrived he found nothing of the kind. Instead the plate was empty and the electrical cord had been cut. “Clearly,” he thought,”I am dealing with a smart sort of mouse. The sort of a mouse I’d let in the house if it weren’t such a louse.” Ed admired creatures who could fend for themselves and had a fondness for crows and magpies provided they weren’t stealing from him. Surely this thief could be reasoned with. There must be something they wanted.

 

Further study was required. The next evening he lay in bed and he listened. Soft scuttling against the floorboards, the faintest creak of a cabinet and - a hushed sound so small it could barely be heard. It almost sounded like a song but of course that was altogether too strange even for him.  

 

He crept from his bed on the tip of his toes and there he found what had been under his nose.

 

One of his board game boxes opened and the letter tiles scattered every which way.

And amidst the tiles, there was a child sleeping. A child scarcely bigger than his thumb.

 

The boy had curly brown hair and a button nose to match the large button tied to his head with a string. It seemed to be functioning as a sort of hat. His clothes were worn and woven from all different fabrics and Ed recognized his green coat among them. He had wondered where that hole in his sweater had come from. It was a nice sweater but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry.

 

Not when he had just made the greatest discovery of his life.

 

Imagine such a thing - right under his floors all this time.

 

The child yawned and stretched, blinking bleary eyes. Ed smiled down at them and tried to convey as much kindness as he could. It wasn’t very much apparently as the boy let out a squeak and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. Ed could have caught him easily. He did not.

 

After all, what kind of host would he be if he treated his guest in such a manner?  

 

The poor thing was clearly terrified and with good reason. Ed decides to make his home more hospitable to the creatures - surely there must be more of them, children don’t spring up from nowhere no matter how small. He rearranged the letter tiles out on the floor and waited.

 

He must have sat there for about thirty minutes, not moving and barely breathing before he saw a little head poke out from behind the leg of the coffee table. He waved. The boy waved back.

 

 _Hello._ Ed spelled out the word slowly and carefully with the tiles. The boy’s hands moved in a gesture too quick for him to follow. A greeting perhaps? _My name is Ed. What’s yours?_

 

The boy looked at him shrewdly, much too shrewdly for someone his age - which was what exactly? For all he knew this could be an adult of the species. He shuffled forward and pushed the tiles with his feet. He sat on top of the last tile, determined and defiant.

 

_What’s it matter to you?_

 

Ed held back a laugh, just barely. Cheeky little thing. He had the sense that if he spoke wrong the boy would disappear once more and he would never see him again.

 

_Well, we are neighbors after all._

 

The boy smiled and nodded as that sounded perfectly sensible to his ears.

Grandmere always told him to be nice to the neighbors. He introduced himself.

 

_M  A  R  T  I  N_

 

* * *

 

The boy couldn’t speak but that was perfectly alright. Ed often found himself wishing more of the people in his life would be quiet so that suited him just fine. And what he lacked in verbal confirmation he more than made up in footwork. He pushed the tiles around with his feet and they clacked together on the wood floor as he formed his sentences.

 

They spent the rest of the afternoon in this manner. Ed asked him many, many questions and Martin refused to answer any of them. He still had yet to determine his age, species or any other pertinent facts aside from his name.  

He finally broke down and gave up all pretense of social niceties.   _What are you?_

 

 _Kapelput._ Martin gestured emphatically at the _K_ as if this explained everything.

 

Ed wrinkled his nose in confusion. _What does that mean?_

 

_I am one._

 

“Is that a species or a surname?” Ed mused aloud. Martin shrugged. They were one and the same. He was a Kapelput, a Kapelput was he. That’s all there was to it.

 

“How do you pronounce that? Cobbleput? Kapelpot? ” Ed snapped his fingers together. “Cobblepot. Did I get it right?”  

 

_Close enough._

 

Martin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Were all Big Folk as foolish as this one? Such big heads it could take a very long time for their thoughts to travel to their mouths. It must get mixed up along the way. He was suddenly hit with a wave of sympathy for this strange man and his too long-ness and his head-brokenness. It must be very scary to live so far off the ground.  

 

_Will I ever be as much as you? Is it too much to be so much muchness or do you grow into it?_

 

Ed thought carefully. He really couldn’t say what the lifespan of a Kapelput could be or the average height and he didn’t want to give him false hope.

 

_I used to be little too, not as little as you. And I was always a bit much for everyone. Still am._

 

No matter what he did, Ed was always a bit off. A tad odd. He tried to compress himself down into smaller pieces or turn into something else entirely, something suited to company. He could never manage to find the right words at the right time. He had wrongness in abundance.

 

Martin frowned. This “Everyone” didn’t sound nice, not nice at all. And Ed may be too tall but Papa said the measure of a man wasn’t his measurements but the size of the soul. Martin wasn’t entirely sure what that meant but Papa always said that and Papa was always right.

 

_I’m not Everyone. And I don’t think you’re too little or too much. I like you just as you are._

 

Ed smiled the first true smile he had had in many years. _I like you too even if you are a thief._

 

Martin jumped up and down in anger and rushed to rearrange the tiles. He was not a thief!!! He was a good and respectable Scavenger just like his father! Ed laughed and laughed.  

 

“There, there little one. I know you’re an honest criminal. You were just curious. And hungry.”  

 

As if in agreement, Martin’s stomach chose this time to announce itself with a rumble.

 

Ed leaned down on the floor and put his hand palm up against the wood.

 

“How bout I carry you into the kitchen and fix us both something?”  

 

Martin thought it over. He wasn’t supposed to accept things from strangers. Ed was strange for sure but he was also a Neighbor and a Tall Friend. Martin had never had any kind of friend outside of his family. It was kind of nice.  

 

_Will there be chocolate?_

 

“I promise there will be chocolate.”  

 

Martin hopped up into his hand and clung onto his thumb. He squeezed his fingernail to tell him he was ready to go. Ed moved up carefully and slowly. Martin looked down. It was awfully far.

 

Ed didn’t seem scared of it so he decided he wouldn’t be either. He set Martin down gently on the countertop and looked in the fridge. Spicy mustard? Might be a bit much for his constitution.

 

Ice cream. All kids liked ice cream.  

 

“Mint or vanilla?”  

 

Martin shook his head no. It wasn’t chocolate, he had been promised chocolate.

 

“You’ll like it, trust me.”  

 

Martin looked at him skeptically. Ed hadn’t dropped him on the floor or caught him in a trap or stuck him in a jar. That’s trustable enough. He nodded.

 

Ed found the smallest teaspoon he could find and it was still taller than Martin. That wouldn’t do.

Eventually he decided they should share, that way he could make sure the boy didn’t eat too much too fast. He fixed a bowl of mint chocolate chip and sat down on the countertop next to the sink that Martin was exploring. He was currently climbing the faucet, sliding down and climbing it again. He stopped when he saw the ice cream. He had never seen anything like that before.

 

It was sweet and cold and green. Martin picked up a chocolate chip chunk with both hands and bit in. He smiled and his teeth were covered in chocolate. He decided that ice cream was his new favorite thing and that Ed, by virtue of introducing him to it, was his new favorite person.

 

He climbed in the bowl to eat more of it and Ed picked him up by the collar before he could get in. “Didn’t anyone teach you any table manners?” Martin pointed at the tiles still on the living room floor. Ed put him back down on the counter and fetched the tiles.

 

_I’m sorry. I’ll do manners better next time. Papa says they cost nothing, I can afford em._

 

Ed hummed skeptically, he would believe that when he saw it. In the meantime, he handed Martin a napkin so he could wipe himself off. The boy was positively covered in ice cream.  

 

“What else has your Papa taught you? To steal from people?”

 

_Papa says the world is wide and men are fools. Take what you need to take care of your own._

 

“That sounds a bit selfish. Other people need things too you know.”

 

_He’s not selfish he’s a Scavenger. He looks after us._

 

“How many of you are there, exactly?”  

 

Martin didn’t want to answer that question. Ed had been nice and all but he was still a Tall. He could squish them under his shoes or stick them under one of those microscopes on his desk.

 

_Hundreds and hundreds. Thousands._

 

Ed nodded, mentally calculating his monthly food budget and whether it would accommodate the needs of a Kapelput colony beneath the floorboards. They were stealing his food and had been for some time without causing too much of a strain. He might as well cut out the middleman and supply them directly. Besides he couldn’t let a child go hungry under his roof.  

 

“Do you think they would like to meet me?”

 

Martin looked at him suspiciously.

 

_Why would you want to do that?_

 

Ed shrugged and tried to contain his excitement. “Always nice to make new friends.”

 

_Will you be a good friend to us?_

 

“I’ll do the best I can.”

 

_Promise?_

 

“Pinky swear.”

 

Ed held out his pinky and Martin shook it with both hands. It barely moved but Ed pretended it had a greater effect on him than it actually did. He winced in mock pain.

 

“Firm grip you got there.”

 

_Deal’s a deal. I’ll introduce you to the family but only if Papa says it’s ok. I have to ask first._

 

“Yes, far be it for me to go against your pickpocket patriarch. Go on and ask then.”  

 

Martin crawled on his hand once more and Ed set him down on the floor and covered his eyes so he wouldn’t see where he was running off to. He had a feeling they wanted to keep the location of their home a secret for now and he wasn’t about to violate what meager trust he had been shown. In the meantime, he had some experiments to plan - nothing invasive, nothing deadly but still. His mind whirled with the joy of discovery.

 

As Ed contemplated the science of smalls, Martin crept through the walls and down a tiny hole into the floors. He covered his face with a scarf so he could breathe through the dust and mites, happy to see the lack of mice. They were particularly fearsome and he didn’t have any kind of weapon on him. He pushed past the lacy curtains and into his burrow, knocking three times at the round door. It swung open and he was swept up in his grandmother’s arms.

 

“Akkorka! Where have you been, my boy?” Gertrud fussed over him, checking him for bruises and cuts and finding none she pulled him even closer still. “You cannot worry me like this my poor heart it cannot take it. You want to kill me, is that what you want?”  

 

Martin shook his head no and took off his gloves so she could read his hands better.

 

_I’m sorry Grandmere, I didn’t mean to frighten you I was out exploring is all_

 

“Too much of your father you are. Running off all hours like this, it’s not safe.” She carded her fingers through his hair and untied the button-hat. “Go wash up and help me set the table.”  

 

_Yes, Grandmere_

 

He hung up his hat and coat on the rack made from toothpicks and toed off his boots by the door. The burrow was cozy and warm and nothing like the outside. It was safe and small and entirely too familiar by far. They lived off of scraps and discarded pieces of other people’s lives and nothing truly belonged to them. Martin reached into his pocket and pulled out the chip of chocolate he had taken from the ice cream. He wondered if anyone else in his family had ever even heard of chocolate. He brought it up to Gertrud as she stirred the pot for her mushroom soup. He tugged at the side of her skirt and she smiled at him.

 

“What’s this, Akkorka? What do you bring me?”  

 

_Choco-late._

 

She frowned with worry. “This is from the upstairs, yes? It’s not safe up there, I do not like it.”  

 

_Just try it._

 

She took a bite and her eyes widened in wonder. She put it down quickly.

 

“This is much too much, I cannot accept this.”  

 

_You deserve good things ‘Mere. We all do._

 

Her eyes watered and she quickly covered it with a smile. She put down the sweet and went back to her cooking. “Did I ever tell you about our family, about our history?”  

 

Martin shook his head.  

 

“After dinner, come sit and I tell you. You do not tell others of this, yes? Our secret.”  

 

_Like the chocolate?_

 

“Yes, sweet child like that.” She pinched his cheek. “Now go fetch the silverware. They will be home soon.”  

 

As Martin set the table, Gertrud hummed the songs of the old country, a country so old she herself had never seen it. Still, she had her mother’s stories and that was enough for her.  

 

By the time the soup was finished and the bread was cooling, the door opened and the rest of her boys were home.

 

Elijah greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and Oswald pulled in his nightly haul. The bulk of their home life was sustained by his findings, the odds and ends he picked up. She did not like it but he said it was necessary and in time she saw the virtue of his crimes. The pocket watch on the wall gave her the time and the small bottle of spice could flavor their food a hundred times over. He took what was necessary and needed and took just a little bit more if it kept her smiling.

 

As Oswald hung up his coat, Marin clung to his legs and he smiled. Then frowned. He wiped a brown smudge off his son’s cheek. “What’s this then, getting into trouble are we?”

 

_No such thing as too much trouble_

 

Oswald smiled and ruffled his hair. “Keep talking like that and I won’t let you out on my next hunt - and I certainly won’t give you the present I got you.”  

 

Martin jumped up and down in excitement.

 

_whatisitwhatisitwhatisit what have you got in your pocket_

 

“Three guesses.”  

 

_Shoelace_

 

“No.”  

 

_Penny_

 

“Afraid not.”

 

_Giraffe._

 

Oswald laughed.“Not even close.”  He reached into his waistcoat and pulled out a paperclip. It was about as tall as Martin and as he handed it to him, the boy nearly fell over from the weight.

 

“Tomorrow morning, we begin your training.”

 

_And then I can go upstairs?_

 

“Only with me and only when you’re ready. I won’t have you running around defenseless.”  

 

_What are you afraid of? What’s out there?_

 

Oswald’s eyes narrowed and his chin jutted out proudly. “I’m not afraid of anything, I’m what people ought to be afraid of. However most people aren’t sensible enough to understand fear and sometimes I have to teach them the order of things. Like those mice, remember?”

 

Martin nodded. Papa had told him many times about his battles with the rodents and the insects before they found their home here beneath the floors. It’s why Papa walked funny and sometimes his leg hurt on rainy days.

 

“Then you know why we have to be careful. We must look after ourselves, my boy.”  

 

Gertrud whistled like a tea kettle and the Kapelputs all fell in line to help her with dinner.

Her boys would do anything she asked of them so she tried not to ask too much.

 

As they sat down for the dinner, Elijah took her hand and smiled. She squeezed back and he looked out at the humble home they had made for themselves. A little raggedy, a little worse for wear but what they lacked in finery they more than made up for in heart. He’d give up all the treasures of the world for this. And in fact he had.

 

The fresh baked bread and the warm apple spice in the air pressed in between them and pulled them all closer together. Now some may say that such a dwelling might be too close for comfort but Elijah couldn’t disagree more. He grew up in a place much too large and now he could hold all his greatest joys within arms reach. What more could any man ask for?

 

As the meal came to a close and they shuffled off to bed in their matchboxes and misplaced pin cushions, Gertrud pulled Martin aside. “Time for a story, yes?”

 

She sat in her rocking chair by the stove to keep warm and he sat at her feet. A miniature ball of string and the tiniest of needles in hand, she began to spin quite a yarn.

 

“Now as you know, my dear, your Grandfather and I met when the new world was young and everything was quiet. He lived in a house up on a hill and it was very beautiful. Very cold. His family was much the same, so still they were. So elegant. They did not like me very much, I think. I was a good cook and they kept me for a time. Elijah would sneak into my kitchens and steal my tarts. It was 'that tart' they called me, when they discovered what we were to each other you see?” She humphed in disagreement. “I do not like to be called such things, I am a lady not a painted strumpet. You know better than to talk to women like this yes?”

 

_I -_

 

“Of course you do, now what I am saying? Ah yes, Abigail that whore. How my darling Elijah came from such a woman, I do not know. She keeps me from my love; she says I am madwoman, says I am loose, she -” Gertrud breathes deep, with tears in her eyes. “She says I am _unworthy of my love._ But my Elijah he comes back to me, we run away together to America. We have our sweet Oswald. And this is when the shrinking starts.”

 

_? ? ?_

 

Gertrud scowls. “She has put a curse on our family. We are her shame and she wants to keep us from the world. I do not need the world only my husband, my son.” She gathers Martin up in her arms, holding him close. “And you Akkorka, you I need most of all. Family is all we have left and I cannot bear to lose you. Promise me you will stay hidden, stay safe.”  

 

_I promise._

 

She looks at him sternly. “No more sneaking out without your father. I will not hear of it. I will cut off my ears before I hear it.”

 

Martin agreed to her terms. After all, soon enough his father would train him and they could go out on excursions together. And then he could ask him about The Tall.  

 

As Gertrud tucked him into his matchbox bed she kissed his forehead and whispered good night. He slept and dreamt of a winding staircase he could never see the end of.

 

* * *

 

“Slide the blade like so, make sure to angle it upwards.” Oswald demonstrated the proper technique with his own weapon - a handy little needle. Well sharpened and well used, it had seen him through many campaigns against the creatures who lurked underfoot.

 

Martin was progressing well under his tutelage and in addition to his skills with the paper clip-sword he was becoming highly adept in foraging and scurrying, two of the finest skills a Scavenger could have. Today’s lesson would be in carrying.

Oswald sat him down and opened up his pack. “Now as you can see, everything I have is designed for maximum capacity from the pack at my back to the pockets in my clothes.”

 

His coat had large, spacious pockets and small ones as well. The heels of his shoes popped open to reveal small storage spaces and his pants contained at least a dozen or so such devices. But most useful of all was his hair. Oswald reached into his remarkably high hair and pulled out a number of things which had no place fitting up there but fit they did indeed.

 

Martin was very impressed and a tad bit perplexed.

 

“A good Scavenger can carry up to fifty times their weight in their hair alone.” Oswald said with no small amount of smugness. “I can manage about a hundred times that.”  

 

_How though?_

 

“Perseverance. Willpower. And no short amount of courage.”  

 

That made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Martin nodded along as if it was the wisest thing he had ever heard. Oswald smiled, pleased as a punch to the nose. He clapped Martin on the shoulder.  

 

“You should be just about ready for an adventure. Show me your form again.”  

 

Apparently, the two weeks of studying had paid off and it was about time for a field exercise.

 

Gertrud loaded up their packs with extra snacks as Elijah sewed new pockets into Martin’s coat. Martin slipped on his gloves and his cap as Oswald sharpened his needle.

 

They were prepared for anything.

 

Gertrud kissed them both on the cheeks, attempting to smother them into staying. Elijah gently pulled her away with a smile and a wave to them. “Have fun storming the upstairs, boys!”

 

“Be back for supper!” Gertrud insisted. They hurried out the door and she sighed deeply.

 

“What are the chances they come back to us alive?”  

 

“Certain death for certain.” He said. She laughed and hit him with her wooden spoon.

 

In the meantime, Oswald and Martin were making their way through the corridors of dust and neglected things up to the crevice in the floor. Oswald pulled the lever and the small basket connected to the pulley system came down to collect them.

He helped Martin inside and they were on their way up.

 

They crept out the side and pulled back the nails of the board as they made their way out.  

 

“Tonight is strictly surveillance, you need to familiarize yourself with the layout so you can make a quick escape if necessary.”  

 

_What if I find something?_

 

“Show it to me and I will appraise its value. If it’s too heavy we come back for it another night.”   

 

They shuffled over the hall closet and discovered the following: a loose clothespin, a mismatched pair of socks, an aglet and a large round hat. Martin climbed into the brim of the hat and pulled out a green feather. It was silky and soft and good for a twirl or two.He fluttered it about and Oswald smiled absentmindedly sniffing the socks. Not too bad, certainly could be worse. It would make great mattress bedding. He wrapped it up like a blanket and stuffed it at the top of his pack with a leather strap. The aglet be useful as well as the clothespin.

 

“Martin, come take a look at this. What do you make of this?”

 

_It’s a clothespin._

 

“Better question: what will you make with this? Everything serves a dual purpose, always remember to look past the surface for potential.”

 

Martin examined it carefully. _I know what it is but I’m not gonna tell you._

 

“And why is that?”

 

 _Ruin the surprise._ Martin plucked it out of his hands and clipped it onto his suspenders in the back. _Where to next?_

 

The door of the closet opened and bright, wicked eyes stared down at them.

 

“Oh you’re not going anywhere.” A glass jar slammed down and captured them both as a newspaper was slid under them. Ed smiled, happy and content. “Hello little fireflies, how will you illuminate my night? Hmmm, I wonder.” He hummed as he hurried them over to his desk.

 

He had no intention of harming his smallest neighbors but that didn’t preclude a few noninvasive experimental procedures to determine more about them. The notion of asking for their consent for said experiments did not appear to occur to him, too caught up in the joy of his latest discovery. If his colleagues could see him now, on the brink of unlocking a mystery no one was even looking for in the first place. His favorite kind.

 

Martin yelled soundlessly against the glass, pounding his fists against it. Oswald pulled out his needle-sword and straightened his stance.

 

Ed dumped them out onto the desk and as they came tumbling down moved a soft cushion underneath just before they hit the wood. He held up a magnifying glass and leaned in close, dark eyes as flat and cold as the night. He moved in towards Martin but Oswald stepped in between, glaring him down. He climbed up the bridge of Ed’s nose and held onto the middle plane of his glasses. Ed’s eyes crossed as he looked down on the man.

 

He couldn’t have been bigger than Ed’s hand and yet he carried himself with a presence that belied his stature. Dressed all in patchwork and scraps, this was someone used to fighting their way through at any price. Nothing in Ed’s life had ever prepared him for such a creature.  

 

Oswald raised the needle high right between Ed’s eyes and smiled.

 

“If you move one-inch closer, I will flay you from top to toenail. Clear?”  

 

Ed gulped. “Crystalline.”

 

Oswald’s smile sharpened and he stuck his needle in deep. As Ed cried out in pain, he seized the opportunity to pull out one of his eyelashes with his bare hands. He stuck it in his pocket and slid down the bridge of his nose and onto his shirt collar. Climbing down his tie, he was abruptly caught and Ed held him up by the scruff of his jacket.

 

Glaring, impatient, bleeding and missing one eyelash Ed was _not_ pleased.  

 

He picked Oswald up off his tie and shook him, weapons and odds and ends falling all out of him as Oswald screamed bloody murder. Ed winced and shook his head to displace the sound.

 

“That’s quite the lung capacity you got there. Where do you keep all the noise when you’re not using it?” He idly poked him in the stomach with his fingertip. Oswald stabbed his fingertip.  

 

Martin pushed a beaker onto the floor and it shattered loudly. Ed and Oswald looked up mid fight. Martin glared at them and folded his arms. They hung their heads sheepishly.

 

Oswald put down the needle-sword and Ed put down Oswald.  

 

_Children. Absolute children. Who raised you?_

 

Oswald opened his mouth to defend his mother’s honor but Martin cut him off.

 

 _I don’t want to hear it. You’re both ridiculous._ Martin turned his disappointed eye to Ed. _Get the letters. You’re making no sense and I need to sort you out._

 

Ed leaned down to Oswald. “What’s he saying? I haven’t quite worked out the system yet.”

 

“He’s telling you to die a miserable, loathsome death you overgrown s-”

 

_PAPA BEHAVE_

 

Oswald pinched the bridge of his nose and gestured out. “Letters. Bring him the letters. Whatever that means.”  

 

Ed made a soft ah ha sound and nodded. Went off to pick up the blocks and as he walked away, Oswald pulled Martin aside.

 

“So, what’s the plan? How do you want to kill him, personally I’m partial to s-”  

 

_The Tall lives. He’s ...he’s a friend._

 

“Martin, you really ought to know better. You can’t trust their kind, one of these days he’s going to dissect us. And that day is coming soon if his recent behavior is any indication.”  

 

_He’s just trying to get to know us better. He gets a little confused sometimes that’s all._

 

“You trust this man, truly? After everything your grandparents and I taught you about them.”  

 

_We can’t hide forever and he’s a scientist. Maybe he can cure us._

 

Oswald kissed his forehead abruptly. “Oh, you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said. There’s nothing wrong with us just as we are, you understand? Our family is perfect it’s the world that’s wrong. Don’t trade the people who love you for a world that hates you.”  

 

_He doesn’t hate us, he wants to help. Let him try._

 

Oswald sighed. He should have stabbed the man in the eye when he had the chance.

 

“Fine, fine, fine. I reserve the right to murder him in his sleep at any time.”

 

_Fair._

 

Ed came back and deposited the letters down on the table. Martin arranged them to his satisfaction to express his dissatisfaction with Ed’s treatment of them.

 

_What is the meaning of all this? What were you thinking?_

 

“He wasn’t thinking clearly. Clearly.”

 

They looked up at him with twin accusatory glares.  

 

The tall man fidgeted nervously under the weight of their combined disapproval.

 

“I was just curious. I’ve never seen anything like you before. You’re _fascinating_.”  

 

“Curiosity kills.” Oswald told him dryly. “And I’d rather you didn’t die if it’s all the same.”  

 

The boy was fond of him for whatever reason and would be most put out. And after all, someone had to pay the electricity bills around here. Oswald couldn’t very well steal food from a dead man, that wasn’t sustainable - the food would run out eventually.

 

Ed beamed, utterly oblivious to Oswald’s pragmatic reasoning. In fact, he was deeply flattered. Someone _not_ wishing him dead was high praise by Gotham standards. Then again, that same person was threatening him not even five minutes ago so -

 

“How bout this - I promise not to die if you promise not to kill me?”  

 

Oswald shook his thumb. “Fair enough.”

 

They both turned to Martin for validation. Look how well we’re doing, aren’t we so mature.  

 

He rolled his eyes at them. _Now’s your turn, Ed. Promise not to hurt us back._

 

“Oh! Oh, yes, yes of course! I thought that went without saying.”  

 

“For future reference, assume nothing. And no more keeping us in jars like bugs.”  

 

Ed’s eyes widened in sudden comprehension. “I- I see how that might have given the wrong impression. Apologies in advance for any further social missteps. But there will be more.”  

 

“Hmmmph.” Oswald hmmmphed. For those of you not familiar, it’s a disapproving sound somewhere between your throat and your Great Aunt Margaret when she comes to visit.

 

It sounds like a pissed off pipsqueak and is more endearing than it has any right to be.

 

Now Ed, being intimately familiar with many sounds of admonishment, oh so wisely decided to shut his trap for once in his long-winded life. Quite an accomplishment, to be sure.

 

Oswald turned to Martin with false sweetness. “Run along now, there’s a good boy. Your friend and I are going to have ourselves a little chat about appropriate boundaries.”  

 

_No stabs. No jabs. Be home by sunrise._

 

“Yes dear.” Oswald swatted him on the arm. “Now go.”  

 

As soon as Martin was out of his line of vision and safely ensconced inside the floor, he turned back around to glare at Ed. He waved his needle aggressively in his direction.

 

“You will stay away from my family. You will never contact my son again and you will keep your abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.”  

 

“Pot, kettle, Cobblepot. It’s a wonder you can walk that thing must take up half your weight.”  

 

“ _Kapel-put._ It’s pronounced _Kapel-put._ Get that into your skull or I will bash it in there.”  

 

Ed laughed. “You really are a hoot, you know. I can see where Martin gets his sense of humor.” He abruptly turned serious. “Now, let’s talk terms. I want to study you. What can I do to make that happen? Is it food? I can get you food and plenty of it.”  

 

“I have made myself quite clear and this is not a negotiation.”  

 

Ed leaned down into his space, the glint of his glasses shining bright as his teeth. Oswald was suddenly reminded of his mother’s stories of wolves and doors. They only stopped howling for one reason. They were already inside.  

 

“Correct. This is not a negotiation and I will be conducting tests. If you comply with my experiments you will be rewarded generously. If not -” Ed smiled and pulled a business card from his pocket. “Well there’s always the exterminators.” An empty threat, of course.

 

As if Ed would ever throw away such interesting specimens so easily.

 

Oswald paled. “You wouldn’t, the boy -”  

 

Ed slid the card back in his pocket. “Not the child. You. You’re going to be my new subject.”  

 

Oswald fainted. Ed picked him up and put him in a small plastic container.

 

He smiled down at the unconscious man who looked so much smaller once you cut out all the sound and fury. Such a spitfire. Ed wanted to warm himself by the fire. Wanted to drown it.

 

“You’re going to be so much fun, I can tell.”  


	2. Chapter 2

Oswald woke up surrounded by white cotton, his needle nowhere in sight. He felt himself suspended far above the ground, a jostling underneath him. He felt up the sides of the fabric walls until he reached the top and he stuck his head over.

 

He was in a pocket. He was in a man’s pocket. A lab coat of some kind.

 

_Nygma once I get to the bottom of this and the top of you, you are going to rue this day_

 

That is if he ever found a way out of this thing. Oswald looked over the edge and quickly crawled back inside. Much, much, much, much, much too high.

 

He didn’t have a death wish thank you very muchest.  

 

Climbing down was not an option. Climbing up might be more feasible.

 

Apparently, the man didn’t have the good sense to check the rest of his equipment for weapons and tools. Or perhaps his large hands were clumsy and inadequate to the task. In any case, he was an oaf, an idiot and Oswald had more than enough string in his pack to fashion a makeshift grappling hook if he bent the metal edges of the aglet.

 

“Amateur.” He snickered as he pulled out a stone knife from his boot.

 

He looked back over the edge of the fabric. He was in a large room with people moving all about very quickly, some of whom were being shoved into cages. His heart leapt up in his throat.

 

He never wanted to be caged. Not ever. He’d sooner die.

 

If Nygma had half a mind he’d know better than to try.  

 

Speak of the (handsome?) devil.  

 

“Wakey-wakey! Rise and shine, Ozzie. Big plans today, I have so much to show you oooh wait till you see the lab it’s all chrome and crimson and decay - you’ll love it.”  

 

“I am going to crawl into your ears, burrow in your brain and eat you from the inside out.”  

 

Ed’s breath quickened involuntarily. Promises, promises.

Oswald could feel his heart pulse through the fabric and smiled. Terror. Excellent.

 

“Don’t-tt, don’t be absurd.” Ed stuttered unconvincingly. “There’s no way you could fit inside my ear canal and even if you could I highly doubt you’d make a convincing maggot or larvae.”  

 

“What am I then? A lab rat I suppose.”  

 

The sudden appearance of Ed’s face peering down caught him off guard. He dropped the knife.

 

“Don’t be silly, Ozzie. You’re not a mouse in a maze.”  

 

Ed reached into his pocket and pulled him out with care and caution.

 

He held Oswald in the palm of his hands like it was the greatest gift he had ever received.

 

“You are my new _pet project._ ”  

 

He had the bright, happy smile of a boy catching a butterfly for the first time.

 

Pinning it against the wall until its wings gave out.

 

A fierce, frightening fascination that would be the end of them both.  

 

They locked eyes and Oswald felt - something. Something peculiar and warm.

 

Something similar to the way he felt around his family but altogether different.

 

He had absolutely no idea what it was and it scared the life out of him.

 

“Hey Ed, whatcha got there buddy? Figurine or somethin?”

 

Harvey’s voice broke through the haze and Ed abruptly shoved Oswald back into his pocket, a move which Oswald protested. Loudly and ad nauseum.

 

Ed held his hands up suspiciously high, fingers caught in the proverbial cookie jar.  

 

Muffled sounds came out of his lab coat pocket.

 

“Nothing to find! Nothing to see! When on my poison you dine I will set you free. What am I?” Ed leaned in closely as if divulging a great secret. “ _What I am_ is terribly late for business and it’s none of your business in fact and that’s that.” He saluted Harvey. “To your post, sir.”  

 

Harvey pulled Ed’s arm down slowly. “Are you alright there? What’s all the hullabaloo?”  

 

“I can assure you there is no hulla and not even the slightest trace of baloo.”  

 

Ed said with the straightest face anyone had ever mustered.

 

Harvey eyed him and decided it wasn’t worth the effort, however minimal.

 

Any energy expended on the guy was energy wasted as far as he could tell.

 

“Ok then.”

 

Ed fled the scene, papers scattering in his wake.

 

Harvey sat down at his desk and regretted every syllable that ever entered Ed’s mouth.

 

Jim looked at him over the edge of his paperwork. “What was all that about?”

 

“Much baloo about nothing.” Harvey said under his breath.

 

“Hmm?” Jim wasn’t paying attention, crossing his T’s on the arrest report.

 

T for truancy. T for tachycardia. T for Thompkins. The best T of all.   

 

“It’s nothing really just Ed…..being Ed.”  

 

Jim nodded sagely. No further explanation necessary.  

 

Meanwhile back in the pocket, Oswald was having a sulk of infinite proportions.  

 

“Ozzie, c'mon now everyone would have seen you. I couldn’t risk it.”  

 

“You sound just like my mother. So ashamed of me, of what I am.”  

 

Oswald sniffled as he searched through his pack, where is it, where is it, where.

 

“Now I am sure that’s not true. Your family loves you very much.”  

 

Ed hadn’t even been aware his species had mothers up until about a minute ago but he tried his best to console him. Such a touchy little thing, so prone to an outburst over the slightest insult.

 

Was this a mark of their sort? Emotional instability and fearsome tempers?

 

Martin had seemed much more sedate but he was an adolescent perhaps it came with age.  

 

Ed tried in vain to get in there and physically pull him out of the pocket and therefore his sulk but Oswald had sealed it up tight somehow. Thus the consoling. The cooing. And such.

 

Alright, the cooing was Ed’s entirely but he was feeling a tad guilty.

 

Taking Oswald out of his natural environment had clearly rattled him. And the man was no good to him in this state.  

 

“What do you say I take you out for some excitement hmm? We have the whole lab to ourselves just think what we could do.”  

Ed wanted to hold him under a microscope, press him down for a scan, take him apart and see what made him tick. Wanted to know everything there was to know about him.  

 

“Y-y-you’re just - just _using me, I’m just an experiment to you!”_ Oswald let out a blubbery, wet sound which coincided nicely with finding the thermos in his pack. He dumped the contents into the corner of the pocket and sure enough, the water started to spread. He continued to wail.  

 

Ed awkwardly patted the side of his pocket to soothe him and his fingers came back wet.  He looked at them in confusion and oddly enough pity. It had to be pity surely.

 

“Are you crying in there?”  

 

“So what if I am, what are you going to do about it?” Oswald sniffed haughtily.  

 

“Oh dear, let me in.” Ed pressed his fingers against the fabric, feeling the outline of his head and gently stroking his hair. “I’ll make it up to you, come out. Please just let me look at you at least.”  

 

Oswald scooped up water and dabbed it under his eyes. Pinched his cheeks so they would look suitably ruddy and cry-worn. Messed up his arguably already messy hair.  

 

“Fine but I’m only doing this so you can see what you’ve done to me, you callous callow child.”  

 

He unsealed the pocket and climbed up Ed’s hand, standing stubbornly with his arms folded.

 

“I hope you’re happy with yourself. You’ve ruined me, well done.”  

 

Oswald had finally deigned to grace him with his presence. Ed couldn’t be happier.

 

He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. “Blow.”  

 

“I beg your pardon?”  

 

Ed waved the bit of white linen is his face. Surrender. “For your nose and other assorted.”

 

Oswald tore it from his hand. It was soft and light, surprisingly so. Comforting.

 

He hadn’t realized he was actually in need of comfort and never would have asked for it.

 

He turned it inside out, looking for the flaws in it. He didn’t trust good things.

 

“Why are you giving this to me?”  

 

Ed shrugged easy as anything. “It seemed the thing to do.”  

 

Oswald wiped the false tears off his cheeks to hide his smile.

 

Then he stuffed the handkerchief into his pack. “This is mine now.”  

 

“Magpie.” Ed said fondly, immediately confused where the fondness was coming from.

 

It wasn’t as if the man had earned it, on the contrary, he was a nuisance of the first order.

 

Still, as bothersome as he could get, it never bothered Ed terribly.

 

After all, he knew what it was like to be considered lesser by the people around him.

 

Oblivious to Ed’s inner dialogue or perhaps in response to it, Oswald chose this moment to reclaim his attention. “What exactly is it you want of me? What are we doing here?”  

 

He stepped off Ed’s hand onto the counter and began to examine the equipment.

 

“What even is that? How does that work?”  

 

Ed smiled, delighted to answer all of his questions. A curiosity to rival his own although he suspected Oswald’s intent need to study his surroundings was more based in survival than his own observations. Or perhaps appraisal. He was eying a scalpel as if deciding how to fit it into his pack. Ed wouldn’t be surprised to return to work the next day and find everything nicked.

 

In the hopes of preventing that, he proceeded to launch into a highly technical and elaborate rant on everything in the lab, waiting for Oswald’s eyes to glaze over as everyone’s inevitably did.

 

Oswald continued to surprise him.  

He asked pertinent and penetrating questions, evaluating everything for its potential use as a weapon, tool; or foodstuff. There wasn’t much to eat in here but Ed did have some leftover crackers squirreled away in a desk somewhere. Oswald tracked them down quickly and sat with his legs hanging over the edge of the counter, idly chewing as Ed saw to his actual work. Once that was wrapped up and his hunger was satisfied they got to it.

 

Despite claiming that Oswald wasn’t a lab rat he couldn’t help but fall back on many of the tests he had used on them including taking a blood sample. It was barely enough to fill up half a vial but Ed couldn’t bear to take more. Instead, he ran him through a series of obstacles and measured his speed, agility and strategizing. Oswald was currently in a maze. He stopped the timer.

 

“You’re holding back.”

 

Oswald leaned up against the white wall of the maze. “Is that so?”

 

“You are much more capable than you allow yourself to show. Don’t insult me by pretending to be anything less than what you are.”

 

“If I wanted to insult you would never know it until it was too late.” Oswald sighed, bored to tears. Real tears this time. “These tests are beneath me. Where is the challenge, I ask you?”  

 

Ed’s eyes narrowed. He tossed the stopwatch in Oswald’s direction and he caught it before it could crush him, holding it up over his head before flinging it down.

 

Oswald struggled to catch his breath and as soon as he regained it he started yelling.

 

“WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?? YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!’

 

Ed didn’t look up from his clipboard, frantically jotting down notes.

 

“It’s just as I suspected. Your carrying capacity far exceeds your body weight. Recent studies in the Journal of Biomechanics show that worker ants can support up to 5,000 times their body weight before they -” Ed’s mouth clicked shut. “Before it is no longer feasible.”  

 

“Tell me what happened to the ants.”  

 

Ed’s eyes darted about the room looking for an escape. They settled back on Oswald. So proud and sure of himself. So utterly unlike anything he had ever seen.  

 

If Ed proceeded with his initial plans and presented his discovery to the world, they would subject the man to much the same treatment. If not worse.  

 

“If you want to understand how something works you have to break it. Disassemble it. The ants were dismantled into their core components and reverse engineered. Imaged with an electron microscope and a micro-CT scanner, then they were refrigerated to induce anesthesia before being glued into place on a specially designed centrifuge that measured the force necessary to deform the neck and eventually separate the head from the ant's body.”

 

“They spun their bodies at breakneck speeds until their heads came off.”  

 

“Correct.” Ed breathed deeply. “They didn’t feel anything, they were heavily sedated first.”  

 

“Drugged and defiled, isn’t that just peachy. Go on then.” Oswald stared up at him defiantly, his chin high. “Take me for a turn around the centrifuge. You know you’re dying to.”  

 

And die he would. Oswald had slipped the knife from his boot into his sleeve.

 

“If you simply answered my questions honestly I wouldn’t have to test you like this.”  

 

Ed was frustrated beyond frustration. Try as he might, he couldn’t conduct his experiments without Oswald’s participation.

 

“I’ll be honest with you when you give me reason to be. Trust is earned.”  

 

“What can I do to prove it to you?”

 

Oswald reached into his pack and pulled out the handkerchief he had stolen from him.

 

“Take me back to my family. I have something in mind.”  

 

* * *

 

Oswald had been missing for nearly seventeen hours now. Martin told him to be back by sunrise.  He was not back and Martin blamed himself. He told Gertrud and Elijah what happened.

 

They were not taking it well.

 

Elijah couldn’t stop shaking and had confined himself to bed in a fit of nerves. Gertrude was swearing up a blue streak and demanding they launch an expedition to the upstairs to find him.

 

Gertrud had not left their hidey hole in many, many years for fear of discovery.

 

For her son, she was willing to go. She tied her hair back with twine, blonde strands falling out. She laid one last kiss on her husband’s forehead and soothed back his hair.

 

“Do not worry, I will bring back our boy.”  

 

They scoured every inch of the apartment looking for him. Checked every nook and cranny, under tables and chairs and even considered venturing out past the apartment itself.

 

Gertrud was slowly losing her mind to fear and the rest weren’t far behind her.  

 

“Tell me again, what this Tall is like?”  

 

She pictured a brute, a bear pawing at her precious boy. Leaving him out in the snow, red bleeding into the cold and all alone. She shivered.  

 

_He’s clever and kind. He gave us that choco-late we had._

 

 

“Then I renounce the choco-late. It is trick. He lures us in with the sweetness no more!”  

 

Overwhelmed with disgust, Gertrud wiped her tongue off on the back of her fingerless gloves.

 

Not just an animal but a trickster, a liar, and a thief. A thief of her son.  

 

She would find this creature and destroy him if it was the last thing she did.

 

The apartment door swung open and she shrieked, ducking beneath a couch cushion.

 

She pulled Martin in with her and hushed him. “This is the one, yes?”

 

_That’s him._

She peered out over the edge of the cushion. All skin and bones that one.  

 

She had seen grasshoppers with more meat on them.  

 

“He is not so big. I can take him.”  

 

_Grandmere, wait - look_

 

Perched on top of Ed’s shoulder was Oswald. He looked - happy? That couldn’t be right.

 

But he was smiling and laughing and altogether too content to be described as anything else.

 

Highly suspicious goings-on.

 

Returning from the GCPD, Ed had offered him a view from a higher vantage point as he climbed up the stairs to the apartment. Oswald took him up on it and found he didn’t mind the height quite so much. The view from here was much better. Ed cracked a particularly terrible joke and his smile was bright and clear as he laughed at his own joke. Despite himself, Oswald laughed as well. He was beginning to understand his son’s affection for him.

 

Not that he’d ever say as much. Liking and trusting were two entirely different things.

 

As Ed opened the door to the apartment, he toed off his shoes and hung up his hat on the rack. Shuffled over to the couch and sat down with his feet on the coffee table. As he sat, the displacement in weight shifted the cushions and two small figures flew out landing on the table.

 

Oswald quickly scrambled off his shoulders and down the cushions to help them up.

 

“Mother! Martin! What are you doing out here?” Gertrud grabbed him and held him close, then checked him over for any bruises or cuts, any sort of injuries. Finding none she bopped him.

 

Just the once, just on the nose, but it was a great shock.

 

“Ow!!! What on earth?”  

 

“This is what you get for frightening your mother and running off with a Tall. I am sick with worry, sick with it and you laugh. Laughing at your mother in her hour of despair.”  

 

Oswald was quick to reassure her, holding onto her arms tightly. “Not at you, never. And I would never leave you for some Tall. If you must know, Ed has agreed to assist us in any way he can.”  

 

Gertrud looked over at the man who quickly straightened up and put on his best innocent smile.

It was not particularly convincing.

 

She shook her head and whispered. “Osvald, I do not like this and I do not trust it.”

 

“Neither did I Mother, he wanted to run all sorts of tests. So I’ve been conducting some tests of my own.” He pulled the eyelash out of his pack along with the handkerchief. “Hair of the enemy unwilling taken and tears of the liar willing sacrificed. All that’s left is one.”  

 

Her eyes flew wide. “You think that he is -”  

 

He hushed her. “I don’t know but we’ve never been presented with an opportunity like this. Someone who claims to be acting in our best interests and may actually be telling the truth.”

 

“And if he is not? If he is like the rest of them and brings us only pain?”  

 

He shrugged casually. “Martin has already given me permission to kill him if it comes to that.”  

 

They both turned around and looked at Martin who was currently sitting on Ed’s hands, they were smiling at each other and getting along just fine. Better than fine.

 

“Are you certain he hasn’t changed his mind? That you haven’t changed yours as well?”

 

Oswald sighed. “I’ll admit he has a way about him but I won't hesitate.”  

 

Gertrud said nothing, her face a study in skepticism.

 

Oswald took her hand and led her over to Ed and Martin.

 

“Mother this is Edward, Edward this is my mother.”

 

_if you so much as breathe wrong in her direction i will steal your lungs_

 

Ed gulped. “An honor to meet you Mrs. Kap-el-put.” He said each bit as carefully as he could, the wrong inflection or slightest mispronunciation would be his ruination.

 

She was not impressed, not even a little.

 

“No, no, no you do like this - _Kapelput,_ you see?”  

 

He did not see. Utterly blind to the intricacies of eastern european etiquette.

 

He looked over to Oswald.

 

Oswald made an emphatic, hurrying motion.

 

“Erm, yes.”

 

“Once more. This time not so stuffy like you have frog in the throat.”

 

“Actually the origin of the belief that people had amphibians in their throats stems from- ”

 

Oswald glared at him.  

 

Ed ducked his head and smiled good-naturedly. As if he had anything resembling a good nature.

 

“Yes, of course. You couldn’t be more right.”  

 

She beamed. With the assistance of her son and grandson, she navigated the terrain of Ed’s arm up the mountain of his shoulder until she stood right next to his face. “Again. Try again.”  

 

Over and over he repeated himself to no avail and her growing frustration.

 

Eventually, she had had enough of her name being slandered by this foolish man.

 

“Kaple-p-AHHHHH!!”

 

She had grabbed his mouth. “You form the word all wrong, you don’t know how to hold it on your lips. Speak and I will shape them correctly or else next we start with teeth. Right, Osvald?”  

 

He waved his hand dismissively. “Anything you say, Mother.”

 

Ed made an aborted attempt at crying out for assistance.

 

Oswald smirked. “You dug your own grave, I’m not lying in it with you. Best of luck.”  

 

He returned to his previous activity - lounging on the couch making bets with Martin.

 

So far they had wagered a substantial amount of chore duties on Gertrud.

 

Neither of them had bet on Ed.

 

_How long do you think until he gets it?_

 

“He got it right about twenty minutes ago. Now she’s just toying with him.”  

 

“Your K is all out of sorts, is this how you treat the Ks? Unacceptable.”

 

“Aksdlejfjke akfc hyucbhebhcbw.” Ed said through a worn mouth.

 

“Speak up. Enunciate.”  

 

She let go of his mouth, much belabored.

 

“Much obliged, Ma'am.” He stretched his mouth out into a proper sort of state. He eyed her warily. “I appreciate your efforts to educate me…. _Mrs. Kapelput._ ”

 

She smiled and pinched his cheek.

 

“Call me Gertrud.”  

 

* * *

 

Elijah wasn’t sure what to make of this fellow. He was entirely, unnervingly tall for one thing. He smiled sometimes as if he knew what your insides looked like and would be happy to show you.

 

And then there was the way that man looked at his son. Like Oswald was beneath him.

 

Like he intended to keep him that way.  

 

Yes, a most unusual and unpleasant sort.  

 

Elijah sat with his wife in the kitchen, over which Ed had given her free reign. She was currently sorting through the spice rack, knocking over bottles and deciding which ones she liked best.

 

She had her hands full of rosemary and thyme, happily humming to herself.  Elijah sat on the shelf and watched. Watched his son and his grandson and their reluctant roommate.

 

Ed was sitting on the piano bench, his hands on the keys and Oswald on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear that made him smile. Martin was on the keyboard, jumping and racing through the notes trying to keep up with Ed’s song. Ed slowed down and Martin ran between his fingers and jumped to the next key. A harsh, flat note. Ed laughed and showed him the right one.

 

Oswald was smiling. Elijah had nearly forgotten what that looked like. Oh, he was happy enough in his way. But he was always so tired. Tired of fighting for their lives in a world that didn’t understand them and didn’t want to. Tired of carrying the weight of it on his own. Elijah shouldn’t have let him do that. Elijah should have done many things. He could do something now.

 

So he watched and he saw how his son was softening. His harsh edges worn down. How Martin was playing and laughing as a child should.

 

How it felt to live above ground, to stand in a patch of sunlight after years in the dark.

 

Most of all he saw this: that man still looking at his son. His eyes never straying far, his ear bent to the sound of his voice and attuned to him. As a tree bends to the wind.

 

Oswald didn’t seem to notice, too busy grabbing Ed’s ear and yelling in it. What for?  Elijah couldn’t tell from here. The offense didn’t really matter overmuch.

 

What mattered most was this: Oswald was yelling, his hand flying everywhere but he was smiling and concealing it poorly. And Ed? Well, he was making a big show of his disagreement.

 

But his lips were quirked up and his eyes were bright.

 

“Elijah, Elijah, Elijah - you do not listen to me three times I have called for you, do you not care what happens to me? I could have fallen, I could have died.” Gertrud marched up to him impatient, her spices in a bundle wrapped in twine. She grabbed him by the ear and lifted him up. “You make me invisible, I am disappearing every day. Can you even see me through the fog?”  

 

Elijah smothered a stillborn laugh. It would not have been well received.  He smiled and kissed her cheek. Then the other. The bridge of her nose until she giggled.

 

“Yes, dear. I hear you, I see you, I’m with you. I’ll never let you fade on me.”  

 

Across the room, Oswald was still yelling.

 

Give Ed time. He’d pull a laugh out of him soon enough.

 

Elijah attended to his wife, following her through the kitchen as she picked out her ingredients.

 

Tonight they were making goulash. Proper. With all the right things, things they never could have had enough of before. Ed had gone to the market in the morning with her list in hand.

 

“What do you think of our dinner guest?” Elijah asked her as she sampled salts.

 

“He is too finicky, no onions. No onions in anything, not ever. Who can live like this?”  

 

Elijah hummed non committedly, leaning up against the pepper grinder.

 

“What else?”  

 

Her eyes narrowed. “What are you planning? I see wheels turn behind eyes.”

 

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

 

She clucked her tongue in disbelief.

 

“A housewarming.” He relented. “Since we are sharing the space after all.”

 

She smiled and him and she looked just as she did the day they met.

 

“You are a good man. Too good for me by far. How did I get so lucky?”  

 

“If I were a good man, I would have let you go.” An argument worn down like carpet beneath their feet, an old weary thing they never gave up.  

 

“You are not your mother, you are not the curse. You are the greatest blessing of my life.”

 

“You should have found someone else, had children. Been safe. You deserve better.”

 

“Do not tell me what I deserve. I don’t want better, I want you. I want our boys and the life we have built together.” She looked thoughtful. “What is this coming from?”  

 

“Nothing I’m just thinking.”

 

Thinking that if she hadn’t loved him their family wouldn’t be beholden to the whims of a woman he long stopped considering his kin. That she could live without fear.

 

She snapped her fingers in front of his face and snapped him out of his reverie.

 

“Think less. What good did thinking ever do anyone?” She wrapped her arms around him. “I love you. I’ll wake up loving you every morning for the rest of my days. You’re home.”

 

He pressed his cheek against the top of her head and held her.

 

A home. A proper one. The kind she should have had in the first place.

 

He could do that.

 

After dinner, Ed cleared his dishes and Gertrud took theirs downstairs. Oswald followed, with a nearly asleep Martin in hand. Elijah stayed. Just a few things to straighten out, he said.

 

He sat on the kitchen table as Ed washed his dishes by hand.

 

“Do you need some help with that?” He asked.

 

Ed shook his head. “No, I’d prefer to do it myself.” He liked the ritual of it.

 

The simplicity of a problem amended. Not everything came so easily.

 

“Very self-sufficient aren’t you?” Elijah mused aloud. “You remind me of someone.”

 

Ed put the dishes away and wiped down the counter. “Who’s that, then?”

 

He knew perfectly well who, of course.

 

The resemblance was striking actually once you got past the surface details.

 

“My wife.”  

 

Ed laughed. Not at all the answer he was expecting.  

 

“I confess I fail to see the similarities. She’s much prettier than I am, for one thing.”  

 

“She’s prettier than everyone, to be fair.” Elijah smiled, fond and reminiscing. “She was the most beautiful girl in our entire village, you know. Still is. She’s stubborn, too. Braver than I am.”

 

“He gets that from her then.” Ed paused just a hair too long. “The bravery that is.”  

 

Elijah graciously allowed him to pretend that’s what he meant.

 

“Yes, he’s always taken more after his mother than myself. He is her little champion and she his fiercest defender. There’s nothing they won’t do for people they care about, you understand?”  

 

Ed looked down at the floor. “I’m beginning to. I’ve never - I didn’t know families could be like that. You all take such good care of each other. It’s foreign to me.”  

 

“Families? Or feelings?”

 

Ed smiled ruefully. “Both, I suppose. You’ve probably guessed I’m not the most sociable.”  

 

“That’s alright, you have us now. What more company could anyone possibly need?”

 

Ed was in a word: speechless. A rare condition for him. It was overwhelming, the prospect of this living arrangement becoming a permanent one. To have people he cared for who cared for him in turn. To need and be needed. It was something he had never experienced before.

 

“How long - how long do you all intend to stay?” He couldn’t get used to it. It would be taken away from him just as swiftly as is it was offered.

 

“That depends entirely on you, Ed. We won’t outstay our welcome.”

 

“You are welcome. All of you. It’s an unusual situation, I grant you, but it’s ours and I’d like to keep it that way.” He fidgeted. “Is there something I can do to make you feel more at home?”  

 

He was suddenly hit with the intense need to de-scrub every inch of his apartment, to make it more cluttered and cacophonous as he was sure they would prefer. Fewer metallics, more fabrics.

 

He had a sudden vision of his life in miniature, constantly stepping around tiny chairs and barely managing to avoid crushing little feet. His organizational system destroyed beyond repair.

 

There were worse fates a man could suffer.  

 

“I have a project I could use your assistance on as a matter of fact.”  

 

Ed smiled. “Tell me more.”  


	3. Chapter 3

Elijah and Ed thought they were being subtle. Neither of them knew the meaning of the word.  

 

The loud sounds of electrical equipment and objects being moved from upstairs.

 

Gertrud and Oswald at home in the burrow, pretending not to hear it.  

 

“I don’t see why they don’t tell us what they’re up to. It’s not as if we don’t already know.”  

Oswald huffed and sat down in his chair, arms crossed. “All this secrecy and for what?”  

 

Gertrud hummed and turned the pages of her scrapbook. It was a true scrapbook in that it contained no photographs and only scraps. Although Martin had created a rather lovely family portrait out of berry juice and lentils. She wondered if Ed would allow them the use of his camera. She wondered when she started caring whether or not a man allowed her to do anything.

 

She resolved to take the camera at her earliest convenience.  

 

Oswald was still grumbling, a steady heavy sound that faded nicely into the background. She had long since learned to tune out the rumblings and let him have his sulk in peace. Once he had his share of suffering she’d be there with a warm cup of tea and a careful word to nudge him in the right direction. The worst of his fits were nothing to her. All bluster and thunder.

 

This was shaping up to be another storm.

 

“And why shouldn’t we be included? Are we so incompetent, so useless as to be rendered utterly superfluous? How dare they - how dare he, because you know this was all Ed’s idea, this has Nygma written all over it. The cheek of that man, the absolute audacity. He’s insufferable.”  

 

“No doubt he thinks he’s being thoughtful. In his way.”  

 

Oswald scoffed. “He’s being condescending is what he’s being. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and all of you, I don’t need his interference.”

 

“He just wants to contribute. And since the man is currently feeding and sheltering us, I think you’d better let him. You have done more than enough, let someone look after things for a while.”  

 

Oswald fumed. “I’m going up there.” She pulled him down.

 

“A man has his pride.”

 

“I don’t give a damn about his -”  

 

“I am not talking about Edvard. Think of your father. All these years, you’ve been looking after us and he’s grateful, of course, he is. But you are so strong, my boy, and your father - he admires you very much and he wants to provide as well as you do.”  

 

Oswald looked at her in shock and sat down. “All I ever wanted was to be like him.”

 

She patted his hands. “I know this, I do. He does not understand how good he is, we must let him show us. Can you be patient with the tall man for your father’s sake?”  

 

Oswald pulled his hand out of hers. “Fine. For father’s sake and no one else’s.”  

 

Her eyes twinkled knowingly. “Yes, yes of course.”  

 

She returned to her scrapbook and he to his fit and neither of them noticed that Martin was nowhere to be seen. He was currently creeping up the stairs with his pack and his pageboy hat, ready to investigate the strange sounds coming from above the floorboards. He peeked his head around the corner and pulled down his goggles, for better vision.

 

What he saw was thus:  

 

  * Schematics on blue paper spread across the kitchen table
  * Stacks of wood
  * Elijah standing on top of the table, holding up a pencil
  * Tools and mechanical devices of all kinds
  * A rough model of some sort
  * Ed, with his shirt sleeves pushed up, his head in his hands, looking very frustrated



 

Martin marched right up to them and began to climb up the sides of the table using his father’s grappling hook. He had stolen it out of his coat pocket, but he didn’t think he would mind.

 

On the contrary, one of his father’s first lessons was how to steal from the people closest to you.

He would be impressed, no doubt. As he shimmied up the side he could hear his grandfather sigh and Ed’s attempt to protest unsuccessfully.

 

“When you proposed this endeavor, I presumed you had some degree of experience.”

 

“We follow the instructions, how difficult can they be?”  

 

“Well for starters, these don’t even begin to account for the height differentials nor -”  

 

Ed turned around and smiled, harried and hurried. His curls flopped down into his eyes and he pushed them back, straightening his glasses. “Hello Martin, I didn’t hear you there.”  

 

Martin raised his eyebrow.

 

“No, no, of course, I didn’t hear you what am I saying, come over and try to make sense of this.”

 

Elijah tugged on his sleeve. “The surprise -”

 

“If you truly think we can pull one over on your wife let alone _Oswald_ you’re absurd.”  

 

_What are you making?_

 

“He wants to know what we’re up to.” Elijah translated.

 

Ed nodded, his eyes quickly following the movement of Martin’s hands. Cataloging them.

“One of these days you’re going to have to teach me Kapelpotish. Your movements are similar to American Sign Language, but there’s a flair to them I can’t find in any of the books.” He smiled. “Your hands have an accent it seems. Now have a look at this.”  

 

Ed pulled out the blueprints and spread them out. “What do you think of it?”

 

_It’s beautiful. Have you done anything like this before?_

 

Ed and Elijah shook their heads.

 

Martin reached into his pack and pulled out the clothespin he had found with his father.

 

He had reshaped it and sanded it down, rounded out the harsh edges and made it smooth.

 

It was no longer a clothespin - it was a cane with intricate grooves and swirls all over.  

 

It was perfectly sized for Oswald. Elijah’s eyes teared up.

“Akkorka, this is wonderful. You did this all by yourself?”  

 

Martin nodded.

 

Ed held out his hand put it under a magnifying glass to examine it in more deal.

 

“The craftsmanship is exemplary. I had no idea you were interested in woodwork.”  

 

_We all have our skills. Papa is a finder, Grandmere is a baker, Grandpere is a tailor and I’m - well I just like to make things._

 

“You have a real gift, my boy - I’m sure Oswald will love it.”  Elijah said encouragingly.

 

Ed turned it over in his hands once more. “Do you think you’d like to assist us?”  

 

_I think you both can assist me. You two are hopeless._

 

Elijah laughed and quickly hurried to translate. Ed’s smile grew two sizes past his face.  

 

He handed him back the cane with elaborate ceremony. “I yield to your expertise.”  

 

Martin set it on the table and tightened his gloves, snapping his goggles back on.

 

_Elijah, you’re on upholstery, Ed you’re on electrics, and I will oversee the rest_

 

Ed gave him a jaunty salute and they all buckled down to work.  

 

* * *

 

Oswald stood with his back against the wall, Ed bearing down on him.

 

“Hold still.” Ed demanded, his eyes focused and determined.

“Absolutely not, we shouldn’t be doing this in the first place.”  

 

“I’ll make it quick honest.”  

 

Oswald laughed. “That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

 

“The sooner you stop, the sooner I start, the sooner it’s over.” He argued, somewhat impatient.  

 

Oswald sighed, put-upon and pouting. He threw his hand over his eyes elegantly.

 

“Tell me when it’s done” He closed his eyes to the impending horror.

 

The press of Ed’s hand and the warmth of his breath and then -  

 

“It’s finished. Although I still don’t understand why you had to kick up such a tiff.”

 

Oswald opened his eyes and reached up mournfully for his hair. He had lost most of it which was quite a substantial pain as it accounted for most of his height.

 

Ed leaned him up against the wall once more and pulled the pencil out from behind his ear, marking his measurement against the wallpaper.

 

“Five inches all together, discounting the six centimeters from your hairstyle.” Ed smiled consolingly. “Thank you for permitting the cut, it was throwing off the process considerably.”  

 

Oswald ran his fingers over his head, feeling very much not like himself. How was he supposed to be the head of the household without a tremendous weight upon his shoulders?

 

More importantly, he had given up a great deal of his identity and comfort.  

 

Ed had moved on already measuring the rest of the family.

 

Martin clocked in about two and a half inches, Gertrude at four and Elijah at five and a fourth.

 

None of the rest of them had to give up their hair because none of the rest of them had so much stock put into it - quite literally as Oswald frequently liked to carry things up there.

 

Lockpicks, knives, poisons, and pistons - anything would do for his do so long as it was functional. It was as though he had lost a limb or an old friend.  

 

Still, Ed had convinced him it was medically necessary and had appointed himself the acting family physician (a motion seconded by Gertrud and Martin) Oswald couldn’t find it in himself to fight it too much. Once more, he reached to push the bangs out of his face only to realize they were no more. If he had a bit of a fit about that no one saw fit to mention it.  

 

Ed was preoccupied with his heart to heart with Elijah, listening to the man’s breathing and determining him to be in good health. Steady if somewhat faint and prone to fainting.  

 

“Tell me more about these fainting spells of yours. They worry me.”   

 

Elijah waved off his concerns. “Nothing to fuss. I’ve always had them even before the curse.”

 

The scientist careful contained his excitement. Finally, he was getting somewhere.

 

“You are referring to the condition you and your family are currently experiencing?”  

 

Elijah looked at him closely as if determining his merits.

 

He had proven his mettle a few times over and besides it's not like anyone else was eager to help them. It’s not as if anyone ever noticed them at all.  

 

“Whatever you may be thinking in that logic laced head of yours, toss it right out. This has nothing to do with genetic defects. Although it has everything to do with family.”  

 

Ed tilted his head to the side and shook it. “There. The logic has fallen out. Now explain.”  

 

“There is a curse on this family.” Elijah’s eyes held the sorrow of nearly thirty years. “That curse is me. My selfishness, my reckless disregard for the consequences - do you know what my mother said when I found my dearest Gertrud? She told me that although a sparrow and a fish may love each other where would they build a home? I said that I didn’t care that anywhere was better than living with the likes of her. She punished me for that, punished us all.”

 

“How did she punish you exactly, I’m afraid it’s still beyond me.”  

 

“The curse is one of selfishness, it’s passed down through the line - until one of our own can do something truly selfless, with no agenda or ulterior motive for the betterment of another we will remain in this state. Never growing older, never growing up.”  

 

Ed paled. “How long have you all been like this?”  

“Longer than I care to tell or remember. Suffice to say I don’t see that changing any time soon.”  

 

“I still don’t follow - you all do good works for each other constantly, surely that mu-”  

 

“The nature of the curse says that goodness within the family is an extension of the self, for all magical intents and purposes my wife, our child, our grandchild - it all stems from my failure.”  

 

“I can’t promise you a solution but I will do my level best. And for what it’s worth you are not a failure as a father. Believe me, I ought to know.”  

 

That had slipped out entirely without Ed’s pre-thought or permission and no doubt Elijah would follow it up with many well-intentioned invasive questions.

 

“Excuse me, Elijah, I have to see to the rest of my patients.” Ed quickly turned away and hurried back to Oswald who always knew the right time for questions and the wrong time.  

 

Oswald was sitting on top of a spindle roll, staring at himself in an antique hand mirror.

 

He did not look terribly pleased with the reflection, a notion with which Ed empathized immensely. Ed resolved to distract them both from such unpleasant things as the limitations and inadequacies of their mirror selves.  

 

“Not quite done with you yet I’m afraid.”  

 

Oswald raised an eyebrow and what a thing that was without all the hair to back it up.

 

He looked so much less like this and Ed had never felt more ill at ease.

 

Like plucking a peacock or its finery or an alcoholic of his winery.

 

It just wasn’t right.   

 

Ed tried to ignore the feeling that he had diminished a monument and took out his medical equipment from his side. “Forgive me, more testing to forgo.”

 

“I’m beginning to think you like tests or something.”  

 

Ed tapped gently at his knees, very much aware of the possibility of breaking them.

 

Oswald kicked out viciously. Ed barely managed to avoid direct contact.  

 

“It’s not the test itself so much as the satisfaction of being right.”  

 

“I can’t fault you for that, nothing wrong with a healthy dose of egocentrism.”  

 

They smiled at each other, a happy self-absorption that was rapidly slipping into mutual admiration - for the self reflected in another person. Narcissus meet pond.  

 

Ed tested his other knee and Oswald winced, clutching it.  

He grit his teeth, ashamed of his weakness and vulnerability.  

 

“It’s nothing, they have been acting up lately that’s all.” He waved away Ed’s concern. “They get like this when it rains sometimes.”  

 

“Both legs then? I was under the impression it was just the one.”  

 

In truth, it was just the one but lately, Oswald had been having shooting pains up both legs for no apparent reason and entirely separate from the weather. He weathered it out as best he could.

 

“I assure you there is nothing you can do for me. Some wounds never heal.”  

 

Ed’s eyes softened a lost and vacant expression. “True but not every wound must be reopened and salted. You don’t have to carry it all on your own. That’s what I’m here for.”

 

Oswald’s lip curled mocking and certain he was being mocked. “In a medical capacity?”  

 

“Right. Yes, yes of course.” Ed laughed high and mighty misplaced from the circumstances. “I’d be a pretty poor scientist if I let my subjects fall apart on me.”  

 

Not that Ed had been thinking of him as such for some time now. No, he was simply Oswald.

 

A menace, a pest, a thorn in his side, the pebble in his shoe and his favorite nuisance.

 

The pet peeve he never wanted to leave.

 

Oswald was fuming, more certain than ever that he would be fumigated.  

 

That the earliest sign of inconvenience or lack of interest would be his death.  

 

It shouldn’t have been nearly as intriguing as it was. 

 

“Well Mister Nygma, rest assured this subject won’t be taking a tumble any time soon.”  

 

“Well that’s - that’s excellent.” Ed choked around his response. “I wouldn’t want any harm to come to you and yours.”  

 

Oswald hummed noncommittedly. This all too earnest Ed was entirely too sincere.

 

And entirely too good to be true.  

 

He’d keep waiting for him to slip up and soon enough he would.

 

Or perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps this was just the adjustment period, the precursor.

 

Growing pains.

 

* * *

 

Nearly seven weeks later, Martin ushered his father and Grandmother up the stairs. They were blindfolded with blue ribbons, a fact which Oswald was in great disagreement with.

 

Gertrud and Martin ignored him, practically giddy with excitement.

 

As they reached the upstairs, Ed extended his hand and picked them all up.

 

Oswald jostled at the movement, clinging to his knuckles.

 

“If you drop me, I swear to Gotham I will -”  

 

“Yes, yes something wildly unpleasant and needlessly graphic.” Oswald could hear the laughter in his voice and resented him for it. “I won’t let you down, not any of you. Not ever.”  

 

For some reason, that Oswald was hesitant to define, he trusted him in this at least.

 

He set them down as gentle as he could on the countertop, with Martin and Elijah pulling them down by their arms and leading them to their places.

 

“Count of three?”

 

_One, two, th_

 

“Oh, for the love of -” Oswald ripped off his blindfold impatiently. “What’s all the - oh.”  

 

His jaw dropped. Elijah untied Gertrud’s blindfold and she gasped.  

 

Martin tugged at his shirt sleeve and smiled up at him. Oswald opened his arms and he rushed in.

 

_Do you like it, Papa?_

 

His eyes teared up and he struggled in vain to conceal them. Then he stopped bothering to hide them. There was no one here he needed to hide from.

 

“It’s magnificent, my boy.” Martin smiled and held up his arms. Oswald picked him up and held him close. As he looked over Martin’s head he saw Ed smiling down at them.

 

Never looking down on them though, no never that. Oswald smiled through his tears and silently mouthed the words he had never said to anyone outside his family.

 

_Thank you_

 

Ed smiled. Sometimes it was as simple as that.

 

Oswald reluctantly tore his gaze away from him and looked back at their masterwork.

 

A home. Ed had built them a home.

 

He didn’t know what to make of that. Martin tugged at his arm and he set him down, still holding his hand. Martin led him up the steps of the front porch and Oswald ran his other hand across the railing. To call it a home would be inadequate. To call it a mansion barely sufficed.

 

It was an intricate and elaborate design, something out of a storybook. The lines of it were complex and jaunting, as it could not decide which shape to be and so choose to be all at once. There was a sharpness to it, no doubt accentuated by the spire of its tower. Despite its harsh corners, the overall effect was one of warmth and comfort. It had a rich texture to it, a flavor all its own. Its walls were a lush shade of plum, with lavishly decorated spindlework and ornamentation in shades of grey and blue. Most notable of all was the entryway which was circular and as Martin lead him through the front door he realized it was the very same door from their burrow merely retrofitted to this. How much of home did they bring into the design?

 

How much of home do we carry with us?

 

Martin led him through each of the rooms and to his surprise he discovered that nothing was merely decorative or plastic. Every inch of the place spoke of authenticity. An earnestness that was as clear and kind as it was vast and overwhelming. The depths of Ed’s compassion for them -  Oswald needed to sit down. He situated himself by the fire (an actual functional fireplace in this fantasy, this child’s illusion) and closed his eyes. Closed his eyes to chandeliers and hardwood floors, to crystals and satin. He could hear the sounds of his mother in the kitchen exclaiming over the real stove and his father pushing back her hair to kiss her ears.  

 

Martin was running around as happy as a child ought to be.  

 

And at last Oswald understood his father’s uncertainty and discomfort. The feeling of being disrupted as the primary caregiver, the fear that his family had become less reliant on him.

 

That he had been usurped. He opened his eyes and forced a smile for Martin.

 

_I have something else for you._

 

“What more could there possibly be?”  Oswald asked somewhat testily.

 

An abundance of decadence - he wasn’t accustomed to it, hadn’t earned it. It unsettled him.  He would have felt more honest if he had stolen the place wholesale. Instead, it was a gift.

Charity from a man he would have killed not even five minutes ago if his son allowed it. How tables turn.

 

Martin handed him a cane. In it, he recognized the same style and design of the house.

 

He wanted to break it over his knees.

 

“How thoughtful, Ed is. How kind.” He wanted to ram it under Ed’s fingertips.

 

_I made it._

 

“What was that?”  

 

_The cane, the house - all of it. They are mine. They are ours._

 

Oswald looked around the room with fresh eyes. He saw his son’s sketches on leaves reflected in a stairwell and his father’s pattern work in the wallpapers, the cushions.

 

His mother’s laughter from the kitchen.

 

“If you did all this - what did he do?”  

 

Martin took his hand once more and led him up the stairs into a blue room.  

 

 _Apparently, we all smell to high heaven of herbs and spices. This is a washroom. It’s called a bathtub._ Martin pulled on a handle and water flowed. _He said you would like it._

 

“I don’t understand the principle of this contraption.”  

 

Martin smiled and tossed him a bar of soap. _You’ll figure it out._

 

The boy left the room and Oswald ran his hand under the water. It was warm and the room was filling up with mist, hazy and humid and the pressure bared down on him.

 

He took off his patchwork coat - and yes, now that it had been mentioned it did smell somewhat of rosemary - and dropped his spidersilk vest to the floor. And all the rest.

 

He took his first bath. The water gave him something he had never had before.

 

Peace. Contentment. The feeling that everything was entirely out of his control.

 

And he wanted it that way, wanted to let go of everything he had been carrying for so long.  

 

So he did. He sunk down into the warmth and let it envelop him.  

 

The knots in his back loosened, the scars in his skin turned to pink and all of his edges, his jagged, ragged and mismatched shapes suddenly didn’t seem so out of place.

 

All of his life he had lived on the periphery of someone else’s. Getting by on the remains of someone else’s forgotten pieces. A scavenger feasting on breathing corpses. An honest thief.

 

Now his family was safe and all the fight went out of him.  

 

He began to cry. It seemed his life was full of tears these days.  

 

Ever since he had been captured by that man.

 

He had in turn been all of these: a hostage, an experiment, a pet and now a doll.

 

No, not a doll after all. No, now he was something else. Perhaps a person.

 

Oswald wasn’t entirely sure he had ever been a person before.

 

He didn’t think it suited him so much. He wiped tears from his face and they fell into the water.

 

All this blasted leaking, what was he supposed to do with it all?

 

A knock at the door startled him. His mother came in.

 

She must have had a bath of her own because she looked rested and happy.

 

Gone was the moth worn and mismatched wool, replaced with a soft peach dress.

 

It flowed around her ankles and wrists like lilies in the water.

 

She kneeled by the side of the bathtub and put her hand against his cheek.

 

He pressed up into it, eyes red and brimming over.  

 

“Oh Osvald, my precious boy, what’s got you so worked up?”  

 

“It’s nothing Mother, it’s just - it’s a lot to take in.”  

 

She nodded in understanding and pushed back his hair.

 

“Things are changing for us. This is good.”

 

“This is sudden. I don’t -” He sighed quietly. “I don’t trust it.”  

 

“But you want to.” It was not a question. “And you should. There’s nothing to fear here.”

 

He looked at her in disbelief. “You’ve had rather a change of heart.”  

 

“Elijah, he tells me things. Martin, he shows me things. And you? You, my son, have taught me so very many things. Most of all you have taught me to take my blessings where I can get them.”

 

“If something seems too good to be true that’s because it is.” He said sullen and firm.

 

She laughed and kissed his forehead. “Oh, you do not see and I will not tell. I leave you to your water and your think. There are fresh clothes on the counter, your father made. Wear with pride.”  

 

“Yes, Mother.”  

 

She shut the door behind her, the trail of her dress following just after her.

 

It seemed everyone was always following after her.

 

Oswald did as she asked, as a good son ought to.

 

He thought and he thought and when he had a good well enough of that nasty business, he got out of the water and got dressed. A deep navy silk suit and a cravat. New shoes. Cane.

 

He looked nothing like the creature that ran in the dark so afraid of the light.

 

All that remained of that time was himself - his freckles, his scars, and his hair.

 

His hair which stood a good six centimeters taller than himself.  It had grown back quickly in the past seven weeks. Faster than ever before. 

 

He found a vat of gel in the cupboard and tried to smooth it down into submission.

 

It stood up again of its own accord. Wild, untamed and unknowable. Never civilized.

 

He rather liked the sound of that actually.

 

Reached into his pack and pulled out black kohl, knives and other assorted weaponry.

 

He lined the bottom of his eyes with the kohl and tucked away his armory in his waistcoat, pockets, and armbands. It never hurt to be too careful. At last, he pulled on his coat.

 

Whatever fabric his father had chosen, it nearly mimicked the house just two shades darker.

 

Deceptively decadent and wine-dark, it could nearly be mistaken for black. Until the light shined on it and it’s true form bled through. Overall, he quite enjoyed his new ensemble.

 

Although he would miss his climbing boots and patchwork coat.

 

He stood at the edge of the staircase, cane in hand and took a moment to take it all in.

 

His family at the bottom of the stairwell, fresh-faced and free.

 

Elijah stood by the door in a smart new suit, straightening Martin’s sweater which was covered in golden bees and pulling on his bow tie. Martin was sticking his tongue out unimpressed, still trying to hold onto his old tattered hat. Gertrud was waiting for him, arms outstretched.

 

Oswald didn’t keep her waiting long, linking their arms together.

 

He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially to her.  

 

“Not that I object to being all gussied up, but what’s the occasion?”

 

“Housewarming of course. Then family portrait.”

 

“You were in on this with them from the beginning then.”  

 

“Not at all.” She smiled and the light danced off her. “I know my boys. All four of them.”  

 

Ed was waiting for them outside the house, camera at the ready.

 

“If you all could just form a line, actually no on the front steps if you would - Oswald in the back if you please, Elijah and Gertrud, on the step below and Martin up front yes that looks just fine.”

 

Elijah and Gertrud put their hands on Martin’s shoulders and Oswald stood proudly with his cane displayed looking over them. Ed snapped the polaroid. Then another dozen or so, arranging them every which way and that. Photographs littered the floor and he gathered them up and hung them up on a wire to develop. Gertrud wanted to see them more closely but they needed time to settle.

 

“One more, Edvard.” She implored. “Just one more - we have none with you, get into frame.”  

 

He nearly dropped the camera in his surprise. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

 

Oswald rolled his eyes. “Get down here, you ridiculous man.”  

 

“Well al-alright then.” He leaned down and they crowded around him his arm stretching up to hold the camera. Oswald poked his nose, Ed glanced down at him and smiled wide.

 

The light flashed and then Ed scurried away as fast as he came. He hung the picture up and set the camera down, clasping his hands together. “Dinner anyone? I have just the thing -”  

 

“Sit down, you’re running yourself ragged. Let us make dinner tonight.” Elijah insisted.

 

“A thoughtful gesture, but with the portion control, it’s much easier for me to make things and scale them down than for you to attempt something on my behal-”

 

_Compromise - tonight we get takeout._

They all agreed and the food arrived in short time.

 

They sat around the couch and watched a black and white horror film on his vintage television set. Martin’s fingers were practically itching to grab the antenna and twist them but he restrained himself admirably, sitting far too close to the set on the floor. Gertrud and Elijah were curled up on a cushion sharing a takeout box, holding a single chopstick between them and maneuvering it in unison. It was a messy, mismanaged affair but they were enjoying themselves immensely.

 

Ed sat with his hands on his knees intently focused on the screen, sleeves pushed back to his elbows and jacket slung over the back of the couch. Oswald sat on his shoulder once more.

 

Ed’s takeout between his knees, he looked down at it in disgust, sorting through it best he could. Clumps upon clumps of onions despite his specifications and long-standing orders at that establishment. He suspected they were doing it now simply to spite him although he had no proof. He merely sighed and resigned himself to sifting through it.

 

“I’ll take them.”

 

Ed looked up. “What did you say?”  

 

Oswald shrugged easily. “Onions, you don’t like them. I do. Give them here.”  

 

Ed held one out on his chopstick and Oswald peeled it off with his hands, biting down into it as happily as if it were a piece of chocolate or an apple. Bewildered, Ed’s current state of being.

 

“You actually enjoy them?”  The texture was vile, Ed couldn’t fathom anyone bearing it.

 

“No one ever accused me of not having an appetite. And I’m not as persnickety as you.”

 

Ed snorted, wordlessly handing him off the next piece and happily digging through the rest of his container for all the others. Finally, a proper receptacle in one Oswald Kapelput.

 

Oswald bit into the onion, marveling at the warmth and grease. Ed didn’t know what he was missing. Or rather, he didn’t know what he had always had and taken for granted.

 

It angered him. The casual cruelty turned to compassion. Generosity without reason.

“We used to go days with nothing before I started foraging. I still remember the hollowness of my mother’s cheeks from hunger. She and father did the best they could but they aren’t as suited to it as I am.” He looked down at his greased hands. “Do you know what scarcity tastes like?”

 

He wiped the grease off on his new jacket and immediately regretted it. Not a single thing he left untarnished. Foolish to think he could have a life not built on entropy and decay.

Ed set his takeout down on the table, suddenly not hungry. Picked it up again just as quickly.  

 

He remembered with aching clarity every onion discarded, every bite of food wasted.

 

It was egregious, it was not economical and downright shameful in fact.

 

Slowly he raised his chopsticks up and forced an onion down his throat determined to grin and bear it. To not be quite so particular and prideful and - dear god that's disgusting.

 

There is nothing quite so wretched as an onion, no vegetable on earth more hateful and no O in the dictionary more worthy of the following O’s: obscene, obtrusive and oppressive.

 

There was, in fact, one O, not listed in the dictionary, that was synonymous with all of those things as well but that was another matter altogether.

 

Oswald made a noise of disgust. “Don’t suffer on my account.”

 

“Not for you. Mmmmm.” Ed smiled around the slippery, slimy eel his brain was convinced he was eating. He had never had eel but it couldn’t be that different than this.

 

“I don’t want your pity.”  

 

“It’s not pity.” Ed said much too quickly.

 

“No?” Oswald’s eyes narrowed. “Then what do you call this? Playing house with my family and treating us as your own. Another one of your elaborate experiments, no doubt.”  

 

“No, it’s not - nothing could be further from the truth.” Ed sighed, pinching between the bridge of his eyes. “It may have started out that way but I assure you there is nothing about you I find pitiable. If you must know - I envy you. All of you.”  

 

“Whatever for?”  

 

Ed refused to make eye contact, his gaze to the ceiling and his shoulders tight.

 

“Even when you had nothing you have always had each other. I have only myself. And myself isn’t always a pleasant person to live with - suffice to say my home was nothing like yours. It lacked any semblance of softer feeling, any degree of warmth. You have that at least.”  

 

“Your family -”

 

“That topic is not open to discussion.” Ed winced. “Forgive me, it’s reflexive. That is to say, I have none. Not as you would understand a family to be. I lived alone until you came along.”

 

Oswald pressed a kiss to Ed’s shoulder. A soft, steady touch that Ed couldn’t possibly feel.  
He wished they could be of a size so that he could hold him and comfort him.

 

“Well you’re stuck with us now, I’m afraid. We aren’t going anywhere.”  

 

Ed finally looked down from the ceiling and his curls brushed up against the top of Oswald.

 

“There’s no one I’d rather be stuck with than you.” His eyes widened. “All of you.”  

 

Oswald tugged on one of his curls that hung down from his face like vines.

 

“Forgive me for my earlier treatment of you. It appears I have misjudged you quite severely.”

 

“If anyone should be apologizing it’s me - my curiosity got the better of me. It’s a habit.”  

 

“You’ve more than made up for it all. You made my family happy, I’m inclined to pardon you.”  

 

_just this once and don’t you ever forget that mercy i don’t have much to spare_

 

“And you?”

 

Oswald stopped playing with his hair. “Hmm?”

 

Ed closed his eyes, leaning into the touch faint as it was. “Have I made you happy?”  

 

Oswald swallowed around the pain in his throat. “I am content. That’s enough.”  

 

He sighed his disagreement. “It’s a start and I intend to improve upon it.”  

 

It was shaping up to be another of their domestics when Ed felt a pull at his hand.

 

He looked down and there was Martin.  

 

 _Explain._ He pointed at the television. _How does it work?_

 

Ed turned to the screen. A creature from a dark lagoon was rising out of the water.

 

“Well, to my knowledge they use prosthetics to approximate a fish-like appearance-”  

 

 _Not that._ Martin wrinkled his nose, unimpressed by effects. _Television. How does it work?_

 

“Oh that, well that I know plenty about allow me to elucidate you - how familiar are you with the work of Philo Farnsworth? Scratch that let’s start with Jenkins, much more interesting now when you consider the c-” Ed launched into technobabble so severe and so indecipherable Oswald was briefly convinced he was having a stroke. Deeply concerned, he looked to Martin for assistance only to find him happily nodding along to everything Ed was saying. His hands flying too quickly to follow but Ed seemed to be picking it up well enough. He must have worked out the system while they were constructing the house. They had built a language all their own.

 

Oswald resigned himself to living in a bubble of brilliance he would never fully understand.

That suited him just fine as it gave him plenty of time to consider his circumstances.  

 

And more importantly, steal Ed’s food when he wasn’t looking.

 

The rest of the evening passed with little incident and Ed carried them all back home.

 

Oswald smiled his thank you as he stepped off his hand and shuffled up the stairs.

 

Prepared himself for bed and laid down. Found himself restless and unsettled.

 

He turned on the light and pulled out his pack. Tucked into a ball, he unfurled it.

 

The handkerchief he had stolen from Ed. He brought it up to his nose.

 

It smelled like chemicals, fresh cut flesh, and ink.  

 

And underneath all that - Oswald didn’t know that green was something you could feel.

 

Yet there it was. Right under his nose all this time.

 

He took it back to bed with him and curled up with it, face buried in the cotton.  

 

He smiled as he drifted off to sleep, the handkerchief wrapped around him.

 

_you make me so happy and i don’t understand it at all_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: happygoloony  
> twitter: happygoloverly  
> Photo References For The New Residence  
> https://arcatahistory.org/tours/north/29  
> http://library.humboldt.edu/humco/holdings/photodetail.php?S=arcata&CS=All%20Collections&RS=04&PS=Any%20Photographer&ST=ALL%20words&SW=&C=1410&R=997

**Author's Note:**

> akkorka: hungarian term of endearment meaning young or little  
> edited by the one and only merc   
> tumblr: happygoloony  
> twitter: happygoloverly


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